


Flying Rats and The King: A Modern Mutant Marriage Proposal

by Sophia_Bee



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 08:02:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2644283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik is bored. Watch out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flying Rats and The King: A Modern Mutant Marriage Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> this is a modern AU with powers but they are basically the same age as XMFC. Because I can. And it's entirely ridiculous. Because sometimes Erik is just THAT way.

The day Charles drops to one knee and proposes is the happiest of my life. 

It starts as all our days do, Charles swatting me away as I continue my never-ending quest to keep him in our warm bed just a little while longer and him telling me that the children are surely up and wreaking havoc, reminding me that while I may only have the responsibility of being eye candy and defeating the occasional threat to humanity, HE needs to make sure the cook makes both regular AND gluten-free pancakes. He doesn't want to listen to Sean kvetch all day about having an gluten-induced headache again. 

I look at Charles and cock a practiced eyebrow. If I play my cards right....

"Eye candy? I should show you the extent of my powers right now and force you stay in bed so I can have my way with you."

"You had your way with me last night." Charles reminds me. As if I've forgotten. Yes. I did indeed have my way with him last night. Twice.

"The great Magneto has a great libido." I say, now wagging that eyebrow. I find myself endlessly amusing. Surely my charm will convince my favorite psychic to deal with Sean's whining and stay with me. I watch as Charles climbs out of bed. I guess not. 

"You should sleep naked," I call after him. "Watching your hot naked ass walk across the room should be my consolation prize." 

I am rewarded with a blue-eyed gaze of consternation and Charles giving me the middle finger. No worries my love, tomorrow will be another day. I have about a 40% success rate when it comes to convincing Charles to stay in bed through breakfast. 

I shower and dress for the day, pulling on one of those turtlenecks that Charles seems to enjoy taking off me so much. I look in the mirror and think that I am looking exceptionally handsome today. Maybe it's my new haircut. It occurs to me that Charles might be right that my primary job around here might be eye candy. It's not my fault that Charles won't let me teach. He does not approve of some of my unorthodox instruction methods and has told me that it's only a matter of time before one of the students is injured. I had countered that having a mutant on staff with healing ability might be useful and that way no one would be deprived of my brilliant methods. Charles did not look amused at my suggestion. 

After breakfast I decide to split my time between brooding and lurking. Some may say there is little difference between the two but have honed both to the level of art form and I beg to differ. As I explain to Charles after breakfast is over and before he goes to teach a class on mutant politics. We are sitting in his study and I am losing yet another game of chess because I have spent half the time contemplating why someone as sexy as Charles wears clothing as decidedly UNsexy as cardigans and the other half of my brain is sending me images of how much I would like to remove said cardigan. These two conflicting thoughts leave me a little disoriented and not focusing on the positions of the pieces on the board. I am more occupied by the fact that I have somehow managed to make cardigans sexy despite their bulkiness and general unattractiveness. 

"You have a dirty mind, Erik Lehnsherr." Charles says, not glancing up from the board. He picks up a knight and moves it. "Check."

"Stop peeking," I growl, albeit half-heartedly. If Charles intrusion into my thoughts results in Charles being distracted enough to cancel afternoon workouts so we can have a workout of our OWN, I am agreeable to that turn of events. I move my bishop across the board. 

"Really Erik?" Charles says, sounding amused, "afternoon workout of our own? Checkmate." 

I decide that losing yet another game of chess because of my libido gives me good reason to brood over a glass of scotch for the remainder of the next hour. Even if it is 10 in the morning. 

"And you will look very handsome doing it," Charles says, kissing me on the top of my head before he exits the study and heads to his next Very Important task. I glower at him. The world has no idea what I have to put up with. 

"They have no idea of my suffering either, darling," comes Charles voice drifting down the hallway. I make a mental note to remind Charles to stay the fuck out of my head as I go to retrieve the scotch from the bar. 

After my scotch I spend the rest of the morning wishing for a good old fashioned mutant versus mutant fight. I mentally flip through all the villains I know of and settle on Mystique. She’s good in a fight. Agile. Strong. And I know she doesn’t really want to hurt me too badly, She’d said so over a cutthroat game of monopoly (Raven’s choice, not mine) in the library just last week when she’d visited the mansion and regaled me with tales of the Brotherhood’s latest exploits. To the public Charles and Raven are at odds, an epic tale of sibling rivalry. In private, they have agreed to disagree and we have a dinner regularly. I consider asking Charles to pry a bit and see if she has any bank robbing or government building exploding planned, but I know his answer will be a resounding ‘no’. It always is. Usually followed by a lecture about privacy and how he will not abuse his powers, even for me. I could give myself the lecture by now, complete with graphs and exhibits. 

Charles finds me in the afternoon, after working out with the students, and I briefly regret that he appears to have showered. A sweaty Charles Xavier is high on my list of favorite things in the world, and he smells so good that way. Charles levels a glare at me and I glare right back, and he mutters something about my dirty mind again. 

"Would you like to take a walk?" Charles asks, and before I can raise a lascivious eyebrow he adds, "and no, you may not fuck me up against a tree. I'm wearing my favorite cardigan and I don't want to ruin it." 

I cannot hide my disappointment. Instead I settle on replaying the way Charles says 'fuck' with that slightly posh British accent then move on to creating other scenarios: fuck me over the couch, Erik. Fuck me in this chair, Erik. Fuck me…

“Erik,” I hear Charles say almost petulantly. “Really. I can barely concentrate. What is with you today?” 

I look at him. Is today different than any other day? 

“Bored?”, I say.

“So,” Charles says, as he loops his arm through mine. 

No matter how much I long for more public displays of affection, Charles is always very appropriate when we’re at the school. I get light touches and small smiles, and walking arm and arm is about as hot and heavy we get when we aren’t in private. For a while he was agreeable to a short kiss after dinner on my way to bed, but then I made the mistake of adding in just a bit of tongue and Charles shut that down quickly. Charles arm through my mine is akin to a heavy petting session that reaches second base. 

“Yes?,” I ask. For being so brilliant, Charles is a master at unfinished thoughts, his brain often ahead of his mouth and he will often forget entirely what he was going to say. I glance at him, but instead of his usual far away intellectual distracted gaze, he actually is looking nervous. He glances at me and holds onto me tighter. Our feet move together and we wander towards the duck pond. 

“Well,” Charles says, starting again, “you know, same-sex marriage is legal in New York now. It has been for a while now.”

“Yes,” I say. I’d been expecting an invite from Mystique and Destiny any day now, but Mystique had told me just after she managed to keep from purchasing St. James Place in Monopoly, that world domination needed to be achieved before anyone walked down the aisle. 

“Well, perhaps you would like to occupy your time with some wedding planning.”

I look at Charles. Wedding planning? What the fuck?

“Charles?” I say, “I know we’ve caught Alex and Sean making out a few times, but I really think some condoms and sex ed is more appropriate than throwing them a wedding.”

Charles mouth is agape. “Erik! Really? Alex and Sean?”

I wonder if he seriously hasn’t noticed the way those two look at each other? Still, I would rather sit down and explain the ins and out - ha - of gay sex than throw them a wedding.

“They’re a bit young!”

“ERIK! You REALLY think I’m talking about Alex and Sean? You think I want you to plan their wedding? They’re barely past being teenagers. And yes, condoms are a good idea for those two, by the way.”

I blink. “Well, who else are you talking about?”

“US! I’m asking you to marry me, you thick-skulled idiot.”

“Oh.” I say, then I repeat it with a little more force, “OH!” 

“I clearly went about this all wrong,” Charles sighs. “maybe I should have bought a bouquet of roses and stuck a ring in a glass of champagne and gone down on one knee….”

I feel my face brighten. “Yes,” I say, smiling, “you should have.” 

Charles cocks an eyebrow at me. “Seriously.”

“Yes.” I say, deadly serious. 

“Are you that much of a girl, Erik Lehnsherr.”

“YES!” I say enthusiastically, “Plus, I really love you down on your knees.”

“ERIK!”

“Sorry.” I say sheepishly. I just can’t help myself sometimes.

Charles is looking at me with those eyes that I could stare at all day then he sighs heavily. 

“I’ll get my trousers dirty. They watered the lawn last night.”

“Knees, Charles. Now.” 

“Just one knee, Erik. You know that, right?”

“You can go down on two knees later.”

“Good god, what I put up with. If I didn’t love you so much…”

Charles glances around to see if we are alone, then he sinks down onto one knee, grimacing as the grass soaks through the cotton of his pants. He looks up at me, and those eyes, those lips, I do want them forever. I want him forever, even if he’s managing to turn this into the most bungling marriage proposal ever. He reaches out and takes my hand, then glares up at me and clears his throat.

“Erik Magnus Lehnsherr,” Charles starts. I like that he’s using my full name. Very formal.

 

“Yes, Charles Francis Xavier?” I answer, trying not to laugh. 

“Would you marry me?”

My breath catches and yes, I am a giant girl, because although this is entirely ridiculous, Charles has just proposed to me. He is on one knee, my hand in his, asking me to be his husband. My head is filled with images of churches and rice being thrown, bells ringing and doves soaring into the bright blue sky and Charles and I dash out, holding hands. 

 

“Yes,” I say, tears springing to my eyes. “Yes, Charles. Yes today, yes tomorrow, yes forever.”

Our hands are still joined so I pull Charles to his feet and into my arms and our mouths come together in a crushing kiss. Charles is cradling my face in his hands and my arms come around him to pull him close. We’re getting married. After a long time, and enough kissing to thoroughly scandalize the students, including the previously forgiven tongue, Charles pulls back and looks at me. 

“Erik,” He says softly. I nod, leaning forward, wanting to kiss him just one more time, “I love you. Very much. But…”

“Yes Charles?”

“There will be some rules around this event.”

“Yes, Charles.”

“If you even think about smashing cake in my face, I will know it.”

“I know dear,” I say. “I am, after all, marrying a telepath.”

“If you call me bride-zilla, I will refuse to blow you for a month.”

“Totally not worth it,” I say, “I enjoy your mouth too much.

“And love, I saw what you were thinking.” Charles says seriously, “Absolutely no pigeons.” 

What? I want to protest. It’s a wedding, for gods sake. There should be doves. What is a wedding without DOVES????

“But Charles,” I say and it comes out as an almost-whine,”it’s what you do at weddings.”

“It’s cheesy.”

“Doves symbolize love. I love you. I want to say it with doves.” 

“They’re flying rats Erik. NO PIGEONS.”

“Fine,” I huff. I lean down and place a soft kiss on Charles’ lips. No doves. I revise my mental image. Church, rice, bells ringing and then a reception and line dancing. And Elvis

We should totally have ELVIS marry us. 

~fin~


End file.
